starcrossed
by krimrose
Summary: 003. She thought that no one would see her. But somehow he was able to find her in the dark. —IrohKorra. AU.
1. stolen, part one

prompt one  
_beginning_

* * *

**entitled:** stolen, part one  
**summary:** 001. The net slipped around her and she was pulled, in one fluid motion, to the surface. "_We caught it_!" —IrohKorra. AU.  
**rating:** T, for swearing  
**disclaimer:** I do not own.  
**notes:** So a collection of sorts for the thirty days drabble challenge.

* * *

The net slipped around her—a sudden, nearly invisible monster—and she was pulled, in one fluid motion, to the surface.

"_We caught it_!"

The laughter of men—_humans_—rang in the thick, humid air. Everything was louder above surface.

Korra moved to cover her ears but her arms were tangled in the relentless net. Her eyes were blinded by the blaring sun, as her skin simmered in the ungodly heat. Her fin beat ineptly against the net as the woven rope marred her glimmering blue scales.

"_We caught it_!"

Korra felt herself being moved in the monster's embrace. Seconds later she was hovered over a crowd of men wielding spears that glinted threateningly. Their faces were painted with a twisted elation as their laughter rang with cruelty. Korra tried to summon the water, but she was powerless, hanging limply in the air.

Once she left the warm embrace of the sea, it would abandon her in turn.

As she was lowered down onto the deck of the human's ship, Korra knew.

This was it. For all the tales of not swimming near the bay, it was because of _this_.

"_It's a girl_! _A pretty one_!"

Their eyes were like daggers, skimming over her body—"_Her breasts_!"—cutting her with their indecency, with their _mortality_.

Korra felt the blunt end of their spears digging into her skin, prodding along her fin. "_Stop_!" she screamed shrilly. Her voice resonated through the dense air that suffocated everything.

The men at the forefront dropped their weapons, covering their ears. "_This bitch_!"

Korra kept screaming. It was her only defense; it was all the power she had left.

"_Damn_!" one man cursed among the rest, her voice deafening them all. "_Get something to cover that damn mouth_!"

Suddenly, from above the thick rope came a large hand that pressed against her lips. The screams ran livid in her throat, burning down to her lungs.

"_Stop_!"

The voice was not hers. It thundered from somewhere behind the men.

"_Clear away_!"

"_Sir_—!"

"_Now_!"

The men that had encircled her eased away, their eyes wary. The weapons fell away from her body and the hand detracted from her lips. As her screams were about escape her throat and shatter the sky, she felt it—_the overwhelming dryness_.

How long had she been exposed to the sun? How long has she been away from the water?

Korra looked down in horror as her scales began to fall from her—as if they were only ever an illusion. "_No_. _This can't be_—"

And then she saw him, standing over her, a path having been cleared for him right to the center where Korra laid tangled and utterly defenseless. The shrillness of her once radiant voice had left her, leaving merely the crumbling speech of a seventeen year old girl.

"_What's happening?_" The men were curious, _thrilled_—"_The scales are falling off_! _Hey_, _hey, look! Underneath_!"—pushing at each other to get a better view, but not daring to breach the two meter ring they had formed around her.

Only _he_ stood in the ring.

The man—his attire, his countenance, different than the others, more refined—leaned down.

"_Don't_—" Korra began, trying to move away despite knowing the futility of her action.

Where could she run? _How_ could she run? Korra felt the water fall from her eyes. _Tears_—these were tears.

"_Just_. _Don't_—" Korra stiffened, the words were caught in her throat as she watched the man pull out a small knife. With the same fluid motion that had snatched her from her home, he slid the knife into the net and dragged it, tearing the rope till a gap was made big enough to ease her out from the tangles.

His expression was stern. Korra could only stare, terrified and trembling, as his fingers grazed gently across her scales—now dulling into gray—brushing them away till her mocha skin was revealed.

And then—

_Legs_.

_This couldn't be happening_. _Katara had warned her_, _Katara had_—

Korra tensed when she felt the scales from her hips begin to fall.

_Wait_. _If_—

Covered.

The man had slipped off his red coat—his movements quick and exact—and covered her. The warm cloth wasn't long enough to reach her breast, but it covered what mattered.

"Now then," the man mused, his hand reaching to her face, brushing the wet strands away—she flinched—so that his eyes could peer into hers, "Let's get you inside."

Korra was speechless, caught in firmness of his voice, as he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her from the cold wood planks. He held her close and carefully, in a way that hid her from the curious stares of the other men.

"That's enough boys. _Good work_."

Of course.

Korra was not stupid.

It was him.

_He_ was the leader in all this. _He_, who could command so many with his unyielding voice, was the reason why she was here, on this ship, in his arms, completely nude and absolutely defenseless.

Despite what may have seemed like kindness, saving her from the ruffians, Korra knew.

He will not be returning her to the sea.

He will be keeping her, either on this ship or somewhere, and that is only on the off chance that he doesn't sell her first.

Korra knew the tales.

This was the beginning of the end.

* * *

_tbc_.

* * *

**endnotes:** Yes—this is not a drabble, so I've basically failed the challenge on my first go. Yes—this will be continued, just look for 'stolen, part two,' in the future.


	2. Cinderella

prompt two  
_accusation_

* * *

**entitled:** Cinderella  
**summary:** 002. Iroh gets a part in the school play and meets a rather snarky individual. "You play Prince Charming. Why am I not surprised?" —IrohKorra. AU.  
**rating:** K+  
**disclaimer:** I do not own.  
**notes:** Highschool!AU. Woo.

* * *

Iroh was putting away the props, when he heard a faint, "Oh, _crap_," behind him.

He turned in time to see a girl, flowing dark hair and skin the color of mocha, fumbling to slip away unnoticed. Dropping all the play scripts—as one said script floated all the way to his feet—didn't help her much. He watched amused as her long, surprisingly nimble, limbs snatched at the papers dancing in the air.

Her back was turned to him and so he cleared his throat, though it was tempting to just sneak up on her.

The girl swirled franticly to face him and it was one of those stupid cliché moments where he's just _staring_—captivated.

Her features were pretty average except for her eyes, which were large and blue and expectant. Still, in the dimmed lights of the stage, where it was just him, and her, and white papers sailing everywhere in between, it was stupidly _magical_.

(Iroh tried not to cringe.)

The girl straightened, some papers falling from her escaping stack. "Uh, hey."

"Hey," Iroh replied before leaning down, helping her pick up the mess. "_You know_," he began, as they weaved about the place, the crinkle of papers echoing through the empty auditorium, "Most girls just drop a pen to get a guy's attention. Maybe a few books in the hallway if they have time during passing period. They usually don't go for a whole stack of paper," he said over his shoulder. "It doesn't always have the desired effect."

To his surprise, she snorted. "Uh, _right_," she muttered. It sounded kind of like the disdainful 'Oh, _crap_,' that had commenced her attempted getaway, but ultimately resulted in her fumble and papers flying everywhere.

"Do you have a problem with me?" The question was more genuine than Iroh had expected from himself. What did he care whether or not some _girl_ had a problem with him?

He stared at her as she gathered the last of the papers from her side. "No problem. It's just that, you are what you are." She wasn't looking at him, more focused on, "_Eff_. I'm going to have to sort these out. _Again_."

Iroh was irritated—what she said lingered like a cleverly disguised insult—but he kept his face composed. "What do you mean by '_you are what you are_?'"

She looked up, her blue eyes boring into him and he realized, _that was all she needed_. Those bright blue eyes that held a million things.

"_Prince_," she accused, startling him. "You're a _prince_."

He couldn't help but make a face. "That's gross."

She laughed a little then. "It's _true_. Why do you think you got the part of Prince Charming?" He was about to respond, but she cut him off. "It's because you exude it in every aspect of your life—the charm, the pretty face, and the _god-awful_ kindness thing you do with _every_ girl—"

"I'm being attacked because I'm _nice_?" He was a bit amused.

"—because you lead them _on_." Suddenly, her voice rose a pitch as she pretended to be some sort of school girl, "_Oh_! _Iroh held the door for me_. _Our eyes met for like five seconds_. _We're going to get married next June_." She grinned as Iroh laughed lightly. "You give them hope. It _sucks_."

A thought occurred to him then. "Have I ever unintentionally, through the terrible trait that is kindness, given _you_ false hope."

The remnants of the grin left her pretty features.

Oh.

_He had_.

The girl cleared her throat and waved her hand dismissively in the air. "No _way_," she replied, laughing a bit too rigidly. "I hardly know you."

"You know my name."

She rolled her eyes. "_Everyone_ knows your name."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me yours," he said curtly.

To his surprise—again—she snorted. "Uh, _why_?"

He shrugged. "Well, you know mine. And how am I going to address you the next time I see you?"

Her eyes flickered momentarily, as her lips pulled into a wry smile. "What makes you think you're going to see me again?"

"Well I hope I do," he said with all the charm he could muster.

"Ugh. _Fine_," she looked at him sternly, "Just, _don't do that_." To which she could only mean his charm. "It gives me _chills_," she stated with a light smile. "My name's Korra."

Korra.

_Where had he seen that name_?

"Do you have a part in the play?" he asked. He was pretty sure he had seen that name somewhere on the cast list.

Korra nodded. "Yeah. It's a small part."

"Which part is it?" he inquired, finally moving towards her to hand her the rest of the papers.

Korra took the scripts with a thankful smile. After gathering them into a semi-decent pile, she hugged the scripts to her chest, papers jutting every which way, but at least they weren't going to slip away again.

"Is that important?" Korra pondered, an elegant eyebrow raised.

Iroh shrugged. "Just curious. If you're in the play, I'll find out eventually, right?"

The school district had _brilliantly_ decided to do _Disney_ fairytales this year. Their school drew the _Cinderella_ ballot, which received a varied reception of rampant squeals and I'm-going-to-go-kill-myself-now proclamations. (It was better than drawing _The Little Mermaid_ ballot, however, because how were they going to work out the whole 'fin and swimming' situation with all the budget cuts?)

Korra grinned then, slowly backing towards the exit. "Then I guess you'll just have to find out 'eventually.'"

...

When Korra stepped onto the stage in _that hideous_ green dress, her voice shrill and wicked, reprimanding the poor Cinderella, Iroh knew.

_He was in love_.

* * *

_fin_.

* * *

**endnotes:** I don't say it enough but thanks for reading. (And the reviews are always lovely—thanks for that too.)


	3. stolen, part two

prompt three  
_restless_

* * *

**entitled:** stolen, part two  
**summary:** 003. She thought that no one would see her. But somehow he was able to find her in the dark. —IrohKorra. AU.  
**rating:** T  
**disclaimer:** I do not own.

* * *

Korra _knew_ she shouldn't be near the bay.

But what was a birthday girl to do? The fireworks that shattered the sky near the shoreline just seemed like they were for _her_. _Just this once_, she thought. _As a present to myself for turning twelve_.

Korra swam, her glimmering fin propelling her to where the water became shallow and rocks jutted up from the ocean floor. It would be okay if it's here. No humans will see. She'll only stay for a while. Katara wouldn't even notice that she's missing.

She would just stay here, behind this rock, and no one will see her. But _she_ will see the bombardment of dancing blues and scatter reds and falling yellows and every color in between, painting the night sky. And Korra would feel a part of something bigger than just ocean—she would feel a part of the sky.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the ship, like a lantern floating in the water, sailing towards the shore. Korra dipped low into the water as it passed the garden of rocks. _Breathe_, she thought calmly. _There's no way they can see you_.

But she could see them—tipsy and laughing, their voices a hum as the sky continued to thunder with pretty tints and vivid hues.

And then there was a splash, so faint that if Korra hadn't been studying the ship herself, she would have missed it entirely. Someone had fallen into the water.

No. Not 'fallen,' but _dived_. And whoever it was, was swimming towards her. _But that was impossible_.

One last look at the dancing sparks—and a bitter glare in the direction of the human—and Korra was off. She plummeted from the shallow to the deep and it was a matter of heartbeats before she was nearly off the coast.

Just out of curiosity—which Katara had deemed her worst trait because of how much trouble she got into because of it—Korra broke the surface to see how far the human had followed.

Katara was right about her curiosity. It was best friends with trouble.

Whoever had followed her was no longer swimming, but _floating_. Like a dead man.

It would have been easy for her to leave. No one would know. And as far as Korra knew, there were no tales of mermaids being prosecuted in the court of law. It was even her _fault_, really.

But her stupid conscience said it was.

And so she swam back.

* * *

It was a boy.

For a moment, Korra was captivated. The undersea temple that she lived in had very few mer_men_. And Korra had never seen a _boy_ before. But then he looked older than a boy, he looked older than her, maybe—_he is dying_, Korra reminded herself.

As she slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him up against—_stupid breasts_—her, she swam to shallow waters beneath the empty dock, away from the fireworks _and_ the ship. There was no way she was going to get caught because she decided to save some stupid _boy_, who, for the record, chased her on his own whim.

When Korra reached the dock, she finally realized what had given her away.

In the pitch blackness, her fin was practically _glowing_ in the depths of the water. So that's what Katara had meant by 'your body is changing.'

Korra grumbled at the sucky timing as she pulled him onto the shore. She laid him gently on the sand and with her fin providing enough light to see, Korra checked the damage.

He wasn't breathing; his pulse was weak.

Korra straightened. She wished she had paid more attention to the healing lessons at the temple. Not that regret did very much for her now. Taking a deep breath, Korra unbuttoned his shirt. _I may as well try_, she mused, placing her hand firmly on his chest.

Korra glanced down to make sure she was still half-submerged in the water, before she began drawing her hand from his abdomen up to his throat. _Come on_, she willed, _come on_. She repeated the motion several times.

Falling into desperation, Korra was about to stop when his mouth opened and seawater floated into the air, falling onto the sand splayed around them. There was coughing. _She should go now_.

Korra was about to use her arms to push herself back into the water, when his hand moved, cloaked by the shadows, and caught her wrist.

Her panic allowed him time to push up from the sand and before Korra could pull away, she was trapped in his embrace. "_Wait_," he croaked, not entirely conscious, but strong enough to hold her.

Korra was about to scream, the shrillness tingling in her throat, when her fin lifted to beat against the water, and she saw the blood.

Her heart sank because she knew, _there was just no way she could leave him_.

"_Please_," she said in a whisper, "Let me help you."

His arms relaxed a little and with the strength she could muster, Korra pulled herself farther onshore. Her fin curved, brushing his legs, lighting up his face. He made no sound, but he did open his eyes—soft, golden irises—and gazed at her calmly His arms slipped down to her waist, fingers brushing slightly across her scales.

Korra focused on the wound.

It was a nasty gash near the top of his forehead. She hadn't noticed it before because they had been engulfed in water, but now, she saw the wet puddle, smelling of something metallic, splaying out around him.

It was a deep wound.

He had lost a lot of blood.

_She could not save him_.

Korra knew—tears welling up, a sob rising in her throat—that she did not have the ability to save him.

She should have just _left_ him. At least then, she wouldn't have to live with the guilt of him _dying_ in her arms.

It was her fault.

And just when things couldn't get any _worst_, Korra felt his hand—trembling and cold, but warm and comforting—on her cheek. He whispered, "_Don't cry_," with the softest, most knowing look on his face. His eyes told her '_it's not your fault_.'

The tears ran hot down her cheeks as she pulled him to her—his head resting in the nape of her neck, the droplets falling onto his wound, the blood in his hair smearing her skin. "_I'm so sorry_," she choked out. "_I'm just_—_I'm _so_ sorry_."

She shouldn't have come tonight.

It was over. She had to leave now. She had _tried_.

But as Korra kept telling herself these things, she wasn't planning on going anywhere.

Eventually, Korra laid him down, her neck wet with blood, her tears falling like steady rain. She curled up next to him—he was heartbreakingly silent—and closed her eyes.

_It would be okay if it's here_. _No humans will see_. _She'll only stay for a while_.

She laid restless, but having no desire to leave his side.

* * *

_tbc_.

* * *

**endnote:** Expect a 'part three.' (And sorry if it's cliché. I did my best to make something new of the whole mermaid-saves-human thing.)


End file.
